


prompt: wait a minute. are you jealous?

by LoveIsNotAVictoryMarch



Series: Tumblr Stuff [20]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, Cockblock Sam Winchester, First Kiss, Idiots in Love, Jealous Castiel (Supernatural), Jealous Dean Winchester, M/M, but in a good way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 07:40:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17658728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveIsNotAVictoryMarch/pseuds/LoveIsNotAVictoryMarch
Summary: The hunt went well. They have earned themselves a night off, Dean argues on the way back to the bunker. Sam sighs and Cas makes a non-commitical sound deep in his throat, which is enough of an affirmation in Dean’s book.He finds a dive next to the highway, not much more than a shack, but with a neon sign outside promising a pool table and cool beers.The interior is packed and loud and perfect. Dean makes his way to the bar and orders them drinks, eyes already roaming the crowd for an over-confident guy to hustle or a willing chick to charm. He finds the latter quicker. A brunette, tall, long-limbed, makes eye-contact that lingers on Dean’s mouth before her gaze slides down along his body.





	prompt: wait a minute. are you jealous?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [justkeeponwriting](https://archiveofourown.org/users/justkeeponwriting/gifts).



The hunt went well. They have earned themselves a night off, Dean argues on the way back to the bunker. Sam sighs and Cas makes a non-commitical sound deep in his throat, which is enough of an affirmation in Dean’s book. 

He finds a dive next to the highway, not much more than a shack, but with a neon sign outside promising a pool table and cool beers.  
  
The interior is packed and loud and perfect. Dean makes his way to the bar and orders them drinks, eyes already roaming the crowd for an over-confident guy to hustle or a willing chick to charm. He finds the latter quicker. A brunette, tall, long-limbed, makes eye-contact that lingers on Dean’s mouth before her gaze slides down along his body. 

  
Dean perks up, straightens to his full height and squares his shoulders. Adrenaline still pumps through his veins from the fight earlier, and he realizes it’s been way too long. The brunette waves a little and bends to whisper something in her friend’s ear, before she walks over to them in long, determined strides. When she reaches the bar, she clunks her whiskey hamper against Dean’s and smiles. 

“Grace,” she says after a delicate sip from her drink.  
  
Dean feels Cas bristling beside him at the name, but chooses to ignore it.  
  
“Dean,” he answers. No need for a fake name here.  
  
Grace is gorgeous. With an elegant roll of her hips, she slides into the spot next to Dean so that her side is pressed to his, close enough that he can feel her warmth.  
  
Cas mumbles something. Without turning away from his new companion, Dean asks, “Cas, why don’t you stop bickering and take a look around. Maybe you’ll meet someone you like?”  
  
Cas puffs next to him, and Dean doesn’t need to look to know he’s doing The Face – angry squint, lips a thin line, eyes glaring as if he’s about to smite someone. It’s been a long time since Dean had to worry about that possibility. Not for the first time, he wonders why Cas gave it all up just for the chance to hang out with his brother and him in greasy bars like this. Right now, Cas might ask himself the same thing.  
  
Grace draws Dean’s attention back to her. “So what brings you and your friends here, Dean? Work or pleasure?”  
  
He huffs a laugh. “Work. We’re just stopping by on our way home.”  
  
She nods. “I knew right away you’re not local. This place doesn’t offer much … variety.” Her smile is wide and brilliant. Dean orders them another drink, mostly to have time to think of something interesting to say. His social skills are not as smooth as they used to be. While he waits for his drink, Cas leans against the bar next to him.  
  
“See something interesting yet?” Dean asks.  
  
Cas rolls his eyes.  
  
“Cas, you’re almost fully human now. Might as well enjoy the perks of your life as a mud monkey.” Dean winks for good measure which only leads to an intensified version of the scowl.  
  
Dean elbows him. “Come on, man, how about Grace’s friends over there?”  
  
Cas looks over at them, then at Grace who started a conversation with Sam in Dean’s absence. What a relief – she will be so glad when Dean returns after having to listen to Sam’s boring stories. When Dean turns back to Cas, he finds him still staring at Grace.  
  
“Yeah, she’s a looker, ain’t she?” Dean smiles. “Wonder if she’s interested in a little roll in the hay.”  
  
The crease between Cas’ brows deepens. “I haven’t seen a barn nearby.”  
  
Dean slaps him on the shoulder. “Never change, Cas.”  
  
The drinks arrive and Dean makes his way over to Grace and Sam who seem to be in the middle of a discussion of … “State laws, really?” Dean hands over Grace’s drink. “Don’t tell me you’re a lawyer.”  
  
“District attorney,” she smiles and sips her drink. Her expression is warm, but her eyes sparkle when she turns back to Sam and picks up the thread of their conversation. One night out, and a beautiful lady shows interest, and then his Bigfoot of a brother has to snatch her. Dean pouts, but his heart isn’t in it. If he were a person who looks closely at their emotions, he’d have to admit that his heart hasn’t been in it for quite a while.    
  
Sam smiles more brightly than he has in weeks, and Dean realizes his brother needs this reprieve just as much as him.  
  
He leaves the two alone, intend to make his way back to Cas, but the stool Cas occupied just a minute before is empty. Alarmed, Dean looks around. He finds Cas’ familiar silhouette near the pool table, standing very, very close to a guy Dean doesn’t recognize. He’s over by Cas’ side in three long strides.  
  
The stranger has his hand on Cas’ forearm and Dean's hand is on the hilt of the knife strapped to the inside of his jacket before he can form a single coherent thought. But Cas – is smiling? At the guy?  
  
Dean clears his throat, and watches with satisfaction as the predatory grin falls from the strangers’ face.  
  
“Oh, I didn’t know –“  
  
The guys – green, huh – eyes flicker from Dean to Cas and back to Dean.  
  
“I didn’t know you were with someone,” he finishes the sentence lamely.  
  
Cas turns to Dean and his eyes are hard. “Yes, Dean?”  
  
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”  
  
Cas hunches up his shoulders at the tone but there’s absolutely no clue of what he’s thinking to be garnered from his features. Cas would make an awesome poker player, if there was time to teach him.  
  
“You said I should look for a suitable sexual partner since you were occupied.”  
  
Cas says it casually, as if that had been what Dean meant. And – that hadn’t been what he meant, not at all, he didn’t even know Cas was interested, well, in sex in general, in men slightly less general, and – Dean in particular.  
  
_Wait a minute._  
  
The ground shifts slightly under his feet. The stranger assesses the situation, takes his hand back slowly from Cas’ arm as if he’s careful not to anger Dean, as if Dean’s some kind of frightened animal, and excuses himself.  
  
Dean wonders what his own face looks like to provoke that reaction.  
  
“You’re angry,” Cas states and his eyes are laser-sharp on Dean while Dean is rooted to the spot, having an existential fucking crisis. Dean rubs a hand over his head, not caring about the fact that he’ll ruin his hair. Pressure thumps behind his temples, a migraine in the making. How did this happen again?  
  
“I don’t know why you’d have any reason to be angry,” Cas murmurs, still scrutinizing Dean. “That is –.“  
  
The gears are turning in Cas’ brain, Dean can hear them, even over the screaming in his own.

Cas tilts his head.

Squints.  
  
_Oh no._  
  
“Are you jealous?”  
  
Dean’s head snaps up. Cold sweat breaks out on his back.  
  
“What?”  
  
“I didn’t know you openly acknowledged your preference for men.”  
  
“What.” Dean says again, wheezes it out along with a shaky breath.  
  
Cas’ mouth is a thin line, and he looks as if he’s about to lecture Dean on his own freaking sexuality. Dean can’t –  
  
He turns and pushes his way through the throng of people between the bar and the exit. He can’t breathe properly. His vision is blurring. A big guy with tattooed forearms huffs a curse when Dean stumbles against him, but Dean keeps going, one step after another, until he’s barging out of the door and into the night.  
  
He presses his hands against the cool wall next to the entrance and leans forward, not sure if he wants to scream or throw up or both.  
  
Heavy gulps of cold air get stuck in his throat and in his lungs. His pulse is racing. The bricks under his hands are the only thing that feels real, so he curls his fingertips into the cracks until his knuckles hurt.  
  
Soft steps come up behind him and stop.  
  
Dean’s mind is reeling. He’s got absolutely no right to throw such a fit, of that he’s sure. He’s a fucking idiot, but what else is new. All the moments between him and Cas, when he was so sure what he felt was one-sided, could it be – could this mean it wasn’t? All the times Dean hooked up with someone and Cas’ face did the thing that makes Dean feel like a chastised schoolboy – Dean had been positive it had been disapproval, what else could it be, honestly, since Dean is such a fuck-up and no one in their right mind would want that, least of all Cas …  
  
A hand lands on his shoulder, light like a bird, but the warmth of Cas’ palm soaks into his skin nonetheless.  
  
His throat is raw and his voice is hoarse when he pushes the words out, words that cut him open like shards of glass.  
  
“What am I to you, Cas?”  
  
Cas is quiet for a long time.  
  
“I love you, Dean, you know that.”  
  
Dean huffs a humorless laugh, his shoulders are shaking, and he doesn’t know how he can make them stop. He straightens and turns to lean against the wall, to face Cas, who looks lost and unsure and not at all like he used to look before Dean dragged him down into the mess of his life. This is not the eternal being that burst through a barn door with sparks flying, strutting up to Dean like he owns him. This is Cas – looking lost and close to shattering just like Dean.  
  
_Okay, this is the moment to use your goddamn words, Winchester._  
  
“Yeah, you said that, and I … yeah, I … uhm … do that, too. But – what I need to know is, what you mean.” His heart is pounding in his throat and every nerve in his body is oh so ready to flee or fight, his muscles tense enough to cramp, but he’ll stay and hear Cas’ answer.

Has to.  
  
“It means I want you to be safe,” Cas answers slowly, and his face is so goddamn open and honest, and he looks like an offended cat.  
  
Dean huffs again.  
  
“Yeah, let’s say I’m safe. What else do you want?”  
  
That might be the beginning of a wistful smile curling the edges of Cas’ mouth. Hard to say with only the light from the We’re Open-sign next to the door and the flickering street lamp.  
  
“I want you to be content,” Cas says.  
  
Dean sighs and rakes a hand through his hair again. He’s going to be bald soon at this rate.  
  
“No, what I mean is- “  
  
Cas takes a slow step closer, until there’s only a few inches between their bodies. Dean’s heart stumbles before it picks up speed and thunders in his chest.  
  
“I want to be close to you, talk to you, and be at your side when you’re in danger. I want to watch you while you cook and cut the onions for you because I know you dislike the smell.”  
  
Now there’s no mistaking that Cas is, in fact, smiling. That asshole. Cas takes another step closer, until his chest almost bumps against Dean’s. Dean can feel the warmth from Cas body on his skin, and Cas’ breath on his face when Cas keeps talking like he’s having a normal conversation.  
  
“I want … so many things, half of them I don’t understand myself. But most of them involve you,” he concludes. “I always thought those things constitute being in love with someone.”  
  
Dean sags back against the wall.  
  
Leave it to Cas to just go and say something like that.  
  
Cas’ eyes are wide while he stares at Dean, and Dean holds his gaze, wondering how he could have been so blind. He wants all those things, too, and more. He wanted them for a very long time, but he’d never … ever even dared to hope Cas’d want them, too. His hand is shaking when he lifts it to put his palm gently over Cas’ heart, a thrill running down his spine when he realizes the touch is not only allowed but will be welcomed. Cas closes his eyes as if he’s hurting. Cas’ heart thumps steady under Dean’s hand, solid and real, but his breath is coming fast.  
  
Cas wants to stay with him.  
  
Cas wants to _be_ with him.  
  
His arm is heavy as a log when he slips his hand up to cup Cas’ jaw. The light stubble rasps against his skin. Dean’s drowning in the reality of it, the dark blue of Cas’ eyes. He’s dreamed of this, so many times, waking with his chest aching, chastising his unconscious for wanting something he can’t have. 

Cas’ face is losing its contours when he leans closer, but Dean tries to keep it in focus the whole way, until their noses are bumping and Cas smiles wider, and his eyes crinkle with happiness and wonder, when Dean gently brushes his lips against Cas’.  
  
“I’m an idiot,” Dean mumbles without leaving Cas too-soft lips.  
  
Cas hums an affirmative, but is clearly distracted with strategizing the best way to deepen the kiss.  
  
“But you’re an idiot, too,” Dean has to add, because come on, this isn’t just his fault, is it? He groans when Cas licks against his bottom lip in the same moment Dean realizes that they could have done this years ago. Cas’ hand is tangled in Dean’s hair and his mouth wanders along the edge of his jaw, until Cas’ breath tickles his ear.

Dean shivers.  
  
“If I agree, will you stop talking?” Cas whispers.  
  
Dean nods, helpless. Because Cas has his lips against his ear, and Cas’ thigh slots between Dean shaking knees, and this – he hasn’t felt like this in a long time.  
  
Dean’s never been good at math, least of all when his dick is sitting up like a meerkat sensing danger, but maybe, just maybe two idiots can measure each other out into something really awesome.  
  
Cas adds pressure with his thigh and his mouth is back on Dean’s and yeah, the equation works. It really does.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [procasdeanating](https://procasdeanating.tumblr.com/post/182530556191/helakkas-asked-for-no-5-from-the-prompt-list) on tumblr. Come say hi!


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